


Faithless

by heretoday898



Series: Blunt Instruments [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Avengers (mentioned) - Freeform, Crossover, Dean Being Dean, Interlude, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Sam Winchester (mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-26 12:30:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13235772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heretoday898/pseuds/heretoday898
Summary: Dean and Bucky meet for an early morning breakfast and Bucky get's some light shed on his hunter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Everyone! Happy New Year!
> 
> This is just a nice little interlude between Dean and Bucky. 
> 
> ShadowHacker left me a comment that I found rather interesting, generally saying that it would be cool if the Avengers found out that Sam and Dean know God and Amara.  
> I haven't decided if I'm going to make it a full fic with a plot, or just do a few chapters around that specific topic of conversation. I'll take any input and thoughts!
> 
> As always, all mistakes are my own and I do not own any of the characters.

The diner was nothing special, the smell of greasy food wafting out from the open door was one Dean had smelled countless times before.  There weren’t even any signs boasting the best pie or ham, bacon and eggs in the state.  It was a regular haunt located just off the highway, an easy side stop for truckers and travelers.  One traveler in particular caught the hunter’s eye as he made his way into the homey, if a little outdated, diner.  Not that Dean didn’t grow up in all sorts of places that could be labeled out dated.  Hell, the man sitting in the back booth could be considered out dated himself.  Dean snorted as he slid in opposite the dark-haired man, flagging down the waitress for a coffee. 

Cool eyes and quirked lips met his glance across the table as the waitress filled Dean’s cup and took the hunter’s order of the special with extra bacon.  The two men sat in silence, sipping their coffee until the waitress hustled back with Dean’s food.  Dean loved diners for their quickness, then again, it didn’t hurt that it was four in the morning and Dean and Bucky were the only ones there to be served.  What Dean liked even more was the waitress leaving them in peace and heading to the back after she topped their coffee off. 

****

Bucky watched on as Dean tucked into his meal, shoveling the delicious food into his mouth with a gusto that reminded Bucky of kids and soldiers eating during the War.  There was a single-minded focus and efficiency mixed with clear enjoyment for a hearty meal.  Bucky withheld a snort as he took a sip of his coffee and slid extra napkins over to Dean, green eyes rolling as scarred hands quickly wiped themselves off. 

Bucky leaned back against the worn leather of the booth, eyes skimming the surroundings before landing on his bike and the Impala outside, both vehicles gleaming in the neon light of the diner’s overlarge sign.  Bucky couldn’t help the swell of contentment that bubbled up at the sight of his bike next to Dean’s Baby.  It had been a few months since he last saw the sight.  Steve had kept him busy with taking down as many Hydra bases and cells as they could.  While Dean, well, Dean was fighting monsters, at least that’s what Bucky assumed he was doing.  Dean hadn’t told him any different and Bucky couldn’t get even a mere twitch out of Coulson when he brought the Winchesters up.  He knew Tony had tried to keep track of the brothers after they left the tower, but they were like the ghosts they hunted.  Either that or Coulson was helping them keep off the radar and Bucky wouldn’t put it past the agent.  

“You want to tell me what’s on your mind?” Dean’s voice was muffled by his coffee.

“Just wondering what you’ve been up to,” Bucky’s eyes drifted back over to the hunter. 

Dean’s face shuttered as he set the cup down and Bucky tensed, waiting for the rejection, for Dean to change the topic.  He waited as Dean cleaned up his plate, moving to the edge of the table before polishing off his coffee.  He waited as Dean looked up, green eyes roving over Bucky’s face, sliding over his shoulders and down to his hands where one was covered in a leather glove.  Bucky waited with sniper patience.

“You believe in God Barnes?” Dean’s question caught Bucky off guard. 

Dean asked it with such derision and Bucky was surprised to realize he had always assumed since meeting Dean and discovering the supernatural that Dean would believe unflinchingly in God or at least some divine being of power. 

“With everything I’ve seen, I wouldn’t find it hard to believe if the was an all-powerful being out there, one who can create and destroy life,” Bucky answered truthfully, if a bit vague, as he leaned towards Dean, wanting to soothe and offer support for whatever the man was feeling.

His answer clearly didn’t placate Dean, the hunter’s green eyes narrowed and he scoffed in derision at the hedged answer.  Worn fingers drummed the table as Dean’s jaw clenched and eased before the man huffed a breath, flinty green eyes catching Bucky’s easy blue ones.  Bucky gave a slight nod, face smoothing out to offer encouragement.  Dean sighed, hands stilling on the table and Bucky took the opportunity to cover one and give it a brief squeeze; the action alone seemed to deflate Dean.        

“What if I told you he was just a dead-beat dad, someone who screwed up as much as my old man or anyone else’s.  Someone who doesn’t get along with his family either and has made some dumbass mistakes.  Except you know, when He makes mistakes there’s consequences on a _bit_ larger of a scale,” Dean scrubbed his face with a hand, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. 

“Does this have anything to do with what Death spoke to me about,” Bucky sat unmoving, eyes tracking Dean’s agitation, filing the words away for later.  He suppressed the gut churning sensation of Dean words, unaccustomed to the idea of God, well any deity really, being compared to a worthless father figure.  Although, if the other Avengers were to be believed, Thor’s father Odin wasn’t too great at the whole parenting thing either.    

“Yeah, Death’s a rare bit of help.  Only offers up anything if something throws his so called ‘balance’ out of whack,” Dean groused.          

“Right, so, clearly something is out of whack.  It’s effecting you and Death, and now me.  So, you gonna buck up the courage and tell me what the hell is going on,” Bucky gave Dean’s hand another squeeze, dearly hoping he wouldn’t have to drag anything out of the hunter. 

“God has a sister and it seems Lucifer wasn’t the first family member He pissed off,” Dean sighed, free hand pinching the bridge of his nose.  Missing Bucky’s incredulous look. 

“Look, it’s ridiculously complicated.  I know Sam told you all a bit about the Mark of Cain on my arm and that is part of it.  There’s a lot more though and never mind the fact that we didn’t even think God was still around.  I mean c’mon, last we heard he ditched everyone and everything, I mean how can you just ditch your own creation,” Bucky stared, eyes wide on the man in front of him as Dean continued to seethe.

“You’re talking about God like you actually know him,” Bucky breathed, shakily pulling his hands away from Dean. 

“Well, yeah, that’s cause I do, only when we first met He called himself Chuck and we thought He was a prophet,” Dean tensed, the hand Bucky was holding twitched abortively towards Bucky’s metal one.

Bucky realized his mistake to late.  He leaned forward again to take Dean’s hand, but the hunter withdrew, face closed and eyes hard.  Bucky stayed where he was, body an open invitation for whatever Dean wanted to give or take.  After all, it wasn’t like they truly knew each other.  Could understand each other, yes, without a doubt.  But the ins and outs of each other’s pasts and experiences, no, and no file could ever truly give someone that information, no matter what Natasha said.  

Although, they had gotten to know each other over the past few months.  Bucky cherished the late night or early morning phone calls when neither of them could sleep.  He learned a lot about Dean during those talks and they helped bring back the good memories of his own life.  The memories of a younger Steve and his own family before the War.  Memories before the experiments, before Hydra, before aliens and monsters.  Before finding out the man he has steadily come to adore knows and is angry with God. 

But Bucky understood Dean, could see it in the hunter’s eyes, underneath the anger and resentment for the life he and Sam had been forced to live.  Bucky saw the yearning desire to have something to believe in, something he could count on, put his faith into, and for Dean, that wasn’t God or any all-powerful being.  A warm desire attached itself to Bucky’s mind, maybe, just maybe, it could be him.  Maybe, they could be it for each other.      

“It was weird enough that you know Death,” Bucky finally spoke, a slight quirk to his lips.    

“Yeah, you took that well enough,” Dean huffed, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth as his hands reached forward to lace with Bucky’s.

They stayed like that as the waitress came back and dropped of the check.  Bucky smiled as Dean left a nice tip and slid out the booth, hands lacing back up as they made their way to the door and out into the pre-dawn morning.

“Whatever you need Dean, I’ll be here,” Bucky murmured as they stopped next to the Impala, body leaning against Dean’s warmth. 

“The same goes for you,” Dean whispered against his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Just a little Sam, Clint, and Coulson conversation that I remembered/found I had half of it written and finished it up.
> 
> Thanks for all of the comments and kudos on everything :)
> 
> As always I do not own these characters and all mistakes are my own.

A hunt had taken them to a little town outside of Roanoke, VA cradled in a valley of the Appalachians.  It was a quaint scene with snow dusting the mountain sides but withholding its chill touch from the valley and town.  Sam was thankfully ensconced in the small-town hall which housed a library in the basement.  The librarian was an elderly woman and a volunteer who plied Sam with offerings of coffee or tea until Sam had to flip out his badge.  Turns out, that was a mistake and Sam had to listen, respectfully, to 45 minutes’ worth of town gossip and theories revolving around the grisly murder of 4 teens, all good local kids mind you.  Sam minded as he vehemently agreed even though he never met any of them.  One good thing did come out of the gossip session and of that, Sam was thankful.  This wasn’t the first time 4 teens mysteriously died.  It was just whispers which ran through the older generation at church or game nights.  But enough people remembered the stories from 65 years ago, enough people remembered long dead friends.  It was the starting point Sam needed as Dean and Cas were out interviewing the families and friends of the victims.

 

Sam was neck deep and hours into research when a non-descript man in a suit silently pulled the chair across from him out and sat down.  Sam glanced up as Agent Phil Coulson gave him a placating smile just as Clint Barton flipped the remaining chair around and rested his elbows on the back, a smirk settling on his face.

 

“I’m a little surprised this hasn’t happened sooner,” Sam sighed as he took in the two men.

 

“It would have, had certain things not come up,” Coulson’s response matched the vague set of his face, Sam envied his ability to give nothing away.

 

Barton’s eyes however, danced as they shifted between Sam and Coulson.  Sam, forever a younger brother, was instantly wary of that look, it spelled trouble.

 

“You sure it's this little town that has something weird going on?” Barton grinned, “I mean you've heard the stories about Roanoke, right?”

 

Sam looked down, a fleeting smile crossed his lips as Coulson muttered a soft reprimand.  The hunter shot a quick glance around the room before leaning forward into the archer’s space.

 

“You wouldn't be fishing for information about the Croatoan mystery, now would you?” Sam pulled away from the other man.  

 

“Hell yeah man, it's an awesome legend,” Clint’s blue eyes wide as he nodded eagerly.  

 

“Huh, sure it is,” Sam rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned back in the stiff wooden chair.  

 

“Clint that's not what we're here for,” Coulson murmured as steady eyes regarded Sam.

 

“Come on Coulson, you have to admit you are at least a bit curious about it,” Clint needled, “and we are here to gather more information about the Winchesters, you didn't specify what kind of information.”

 

A sharp, incredulous laugh burst out of Sam as he took in the two SHIELD agents.  He appreciated the honesty though, it wasn't often that people were so upfront about getting information on them.  It was also nice to be the source of that information. 

 

“Dean and Cas are out interviewing the friends and families of the victims,” Sam explained, not wholly comfortable with this conversation without Dean.  He pulled his phone out under the table and shot a quick text off to Dean, filling his brother in on the situation.

 

“Cas, who’s Cas?” Barton glanced over at Coulson, “you mean the dark-haired guy in the trench coat?”

 

“Our sources say his name is James Novak,” Coulson’s gaze was heavy, the unspoken words of the missing person’s report and other allegations hanging between them.  Sam’s phone pinged in the quiet of the library, the younger Winchester took a quick glance and sighed, relieved, at the affirmative text from Dean. 

 

“Yeah, see, Jimmy isn’t exactly inhabiting that body anymore.  Hasn’t been for a while in fact,” Sam hedged.

 

“Care to elaborate,” Coulson arched a brow.

 

“Cas is short for Castiel, Angel of the Lord,” Sam shrugged with a helpless gesture.

 

“Like...wings, halo, and a harp?” Barton’s face was scrunched in thought.

 

“No harp, Cas definitely doesn’t have a harp,” Sam chuckled, “and not so much a halo, more of a whole-body light show.”

 

Twin blank faces stared back at Sam from across the table.  A momentary wish to snap a picture flitted through Sam’s mind.  

 

“Yeah, Cas isn’t exactly what you’d expect, but yeah,” a small smile graced Sam’s face.

 

“So, demons and angels, plus a whole lot of other nightmarish shit.  I don’t want to make the jump to the logical conclusion, but I mean,” Clint trailed off, blue eyes sharp as Coulson shifted next to him.

 

“God, yeah, Him too,” Sam shrugged as twin looks of disbelief stole across the SHIELD agents’ faces.  

 

The two men were quiet for a moment, Coulson’s face shuttering back into a blank mask as he picked apart the new information.  Clint scowled, as the hero looked down and then back up at Sam repeatedly. 

 

“You’re telling me God exists and He’s been letting this shitshow of a world go on,” Clint growled low as he leaned across the table, pushing Sam’s research to the side.  Coulson put a hand on the archer’s shoulder, tugging him back as the agent took a quick scan of the library.

 

“He gave us Free Will for a reason,” Sam countered with a slight frown, “you could also argue that by creating all of us, the Avengers, me and Dean, that He did do something.”  

 

It was Coulson’s turn to frown as Clint’s face gaped and the man sputtered.  Sam huffed as he rolled his neck, trying to ease the everlasting tension.  His eyes strayed back to the pile of research, work he needed to get done if they were going to have any hope of stopping whatever monster they were hunting.

 

“Look, He’s not really around as far as anyone can tell.  Cas went searching for him years ago and found nothing,” Sam sighed as the two agents focused back on him.

 

“So, he just abandoned ship,” Clint gave a wry chuckle.

 

“Dean thinks so,” Sam said.

 

“But you don’t,” Coulson murmured as he moved his chair back, the harsh scraping sound startling Clint.  

 

“One of us has to have faith,” Sam gave Coulson a sincere, if tired smile,    

 

“Thank you, Sam, for your time, we will let you get back to your research,” Coulson smiled as he stood up and pushed the worn wooden library chair back in, Clint following his lead.

 

“If you need anything man, let us know,” Clint shot Sam a quick smile, forehead still furrowed as the two agents made their way out of the library.  

 

A small, grateful smile stole its way across Sam’s face as he pulled his research back in front of him and took out his phone to shoot Dean an update.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments or Kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, so I know Dean has faith in Cas, but Bucky doesn't know Cas. That will be a meeting for another time.
> 
> Comments or Kudos!


End file.
